


Damn Good Day

by super3000



Category: Leverage
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Het, Kink Discovery, M/M, Multi, OT3, Parker loves donuts, Slash, Threesome - F/M/M, a little d/s I guess, and her boys, but not really, kink and fluff are supposed to go together right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super3000/pseuds/super3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not a thing. It was never a thing for Hardison and it still isn’t. It’s not.</p><p>Hardison gets off on calling Eliot “Daddy” and being Eliot’s good boy and sometimes being spanked and it is not a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fic and it's entirely unbeta'd. Thoughts/comments/random facts about the world are welcome! 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

This is not a thing. It was never a thing for Hardison and it still isn’t. It’s not.

 

Hardison gets off on calling Eliot “Daddy” and being Eliot’s good boy and sometimes being spanked and it is not a thing.

 

~:~:~

 

It might be a thing.

 

~:~:~

 

Hardison never felt the absence of a male role model in his life. That’s a lie. When he was little, he felt a lot of lack. All of them—the spaces where family was supposed to be, had been, and wasn’t. Then he got lucky. Nana was warm and strict and encouraging and everything he’d ever need in the way of parents. Admittedly, his moral compass is a bit more freely oriented than some peoples’, but he knows his right from his wrong. He doesn’t hurt people. Hell, he helps them now.

 

And maybe the jokes about Sophie and Nate being team mom and dad resonate with him and Parker more than either of them want to admit. Nate isn’t necessarily a good father figure (what with the drinking and the obsessive behavior and the number of plans that involve Hardison’s potential death. He knows Nate wouldn’t actually let that happen, but knowing and _knowing_ aren’t the same thing) but he’s helped reshape Hardison’s world view and given him a chance to be a good man. That seems pretty parental.

 

He _knows_ that Eliot won’t let anything happen to him. To any of them, but especially Hardison and Parker. He loves them. He says it in his slow honey voice when they’re on dates and when they fuck and even in little, insignificant moments when he doesn’t have to. They store those moments up like half-starved foster kids store cookies. Hardison knows there will be more. He even _knows_ it, but that doesn’t make them any less precious.

 

~:~:~

 

Parker doesn’t take part in this particular element of them. The three of them are always the three of them, but sometimes there’s Parker and Hardison. Sometimes there’s Eliot and Hardison. He’s never seen it, but he knows that there’s Eliot and Parker. They are some sneaky fuckers when they want to be, and sometimes they want to be just because they can. He likes that about them. He likes when they leave their secrets for him and when they pull him in with them.

 

This isn’t a secret. Parker knows and she doesn’t judge. She doesn’t entirely understand, but she’s learning how to ask about things and how to tell the difference between not understanding because she missed something and not understanding because it doesn’t apply to her.

 

~:~:~

 

Hardison never used to think about this.

 

The thing is, Eliot is the best a father figure could be in the ways that matter. He might never agree, but he is. He’s strong without putting macho limits on what that means. He shows appreciation for good work and he likes to teach. He’s warm and solid and for all Hardison’s taller, it feels like Eliot can wrap around him, keep him warm and safe and cared for.

 

Maybe the fact that he doesn’t have any father—good or bad—to associate with this not-thing is what lets it happen. He didn’t spend his adolescence wishing for something he didn’t have. He has no memories that could get squicky if he remembers them while he rubs off against Eliot’s leg during a spanking.

 

Mostly, though, it’s Eliot’s fault. He calls everyone “boy” and “son” and Hardison cannot stop thinking about it.

 

Eliot’s careful about his language. He never calls Hardison “boy” because he grew up in the South and there are some implications there not to be touched with a ten foot pole. He’s stopped telling Parker that she’s “not right” because he knows it can hurt her and because he doesn’t believe it anymore. He doesn’t call Hardison “son” because he respects him as a member of the team and as a lover. But he keeps saying those words, and “daddy” too. Any time a mark’s father is involved in any way, there’s that word.

 

~:~:~

 

Hardison’s not the one that figures it out. He’s brilliant and one of the best at what he does, but he’s also very good at not examining his motivations too strongly as long as everything is working. If he’s particularly hot for Eliot sometimes, what does it matter as long as they get to fuck?

 

“Son, if you don’t reconsider that you’re going to wish your daddy had cut you out of that will,” Eliot cautions a particularly bullheaded mark whose trust fund has been used to hurt a lot of people in the way of his business interests.

 

Later, Parker tells them to have fun as she slips out the window. After being their frontwoman, sometimes she needs to be other parts of herself. She likes to break into museums and scope out exhibits the boys will like.

 

Hardison waves at the open window where she just was, turns, and launches himself at Eliot. “Hey, Alec,” Eliot croons. Hardison doesn’t respond except to kiss Eliot harder, slide his hands further under his shirts. “You want to tell me what’s got into you?”

 

Hardison grins and sinks to the floor, pulling Eliot’s pants down with him. Eliot may not know what’s gotten into him—nothing, this is not a thing, he just wants Eliot right now, that’s not abnormal—but he’s definitely responding. Hardison mouths over the head of Eliot’s cock through his boxer briefs, grins at the groan Eliot doesn’t feel the need to stifle in front of him.

 

Hardison plays with him a while longer, until Eliot growls impatiently. “Dammit, Hardison,” he murmurs. Hardison palms his own cock as a reward for that little victory, then pulls Eliot’s shorts down. He licks over the head, sucks it into his mouth, sinks down onto it as far as he can. Eliot’s hand comes to rest on the back of Hardison’s neck—not forcing, not even guiding, just there with his broad palm and his calluses. Hardison moans and Eliot shuts his eyes, grips just a little harder. “Oh, that’s good. You’re so good, Alec,” Eliot tells him.

 

Blowing Eliot is always good—all that power and rage and control undone by a few special movements of his tongue, oh yes—but this is the first time Hardison has ever come from a blowjob that he was not receiving.

 

After, Eliot half picks Hardison up and steers him to the bed. He’s a cuddler, Eliot, and Hardison will never stop wanting to feel wanted, but normally he gets restless for something to do, surf, type after about fifteen minutes. Now, though, he wants to feel wrapped up in Eliot. He falls asleep with Eliot’s hand stroking up and down his spine. It’s nice.

 

~:~:~

 

Hardison doesn’t try to talk about it because there’s no “it” to talk about. But Eliot gives him these looks and Parker starts grinning at him like she knows something as she leaves for her next museum or bank vault.

 

~:~:~

 

It takes months for Eliot to bring it up. Hardison doesn’t even try to dodge it, because if there was anything to notice it certainly wasn’t enough of a something for anyone else to notice it.

 

“So do you want to be my good boy or my bad boy, Alec?” Eliot asks after he’s come all over both of their chests, tightening around Hardison’s cock and continuing to bounce on it until Hardison comes with a shout and a hand buried in Eliot’s hair.

 

“Excuse you?” Hardison tries to sit up, but Eliot is sitting on his hips and there’s zero chance of shifting him against his will.

 

“You want to call me Daddy and get praised for being a good boy, or do you want to get spanked for being a bad boy?” Eliot elaborates like it’s nothing. Hardison stares at him. “It’s a very specific kink,” he murmurs, sprawling forward on top of Hardison and ducking down to kiss his neck.

 

“You—but—I…” Hardison trailed off.

 

“Maybe you want both?” Hardison whimpers and it isn’t just because Eliot squeezed his ass as he spoke. Neither of them is getting hard again anytime soon, but it still feels good. “You want me to put you over my knee and smack this firm ass until you’re sorry for acting out, then lick you til you cry and tell you over and over again how much I love you no matter what because you’re a good boy?” Eliot surges forward to kiss him.

 

“I don’t—it’s not—“ Hardison tried.

 

Eliot looked at him for a moment. “It’s ok. Either way, or not at all. You know we’re good and we love you, right?”

 

Hardison smiled shyly, mutters, “I know,” because he may be the one with daddy issues (it’s not daddy issues, it’s a daddy kink, he’s decided) and Parker may be the one who never had a family, but Eliot’s the one that needs to know his loved ones feel loved. He needs to know that he’s loved, because people have lied to him and taken their love away too many times.

 

He was the golden boy who should have gotten married or at least been a war hero. He should have his own restaurant. You don’t go from all of that to Eliot Spencer, hitter for hire, without losing out on a lot of love that should have been yours. Eliot has a lot of feelings about people who are small and afraid and not sure how to get away. He needs to know that his people are cared for, that they’ve eaten, that they liked the food he made just for them. Eliot needs to know that Hardison and Parker feel his love because that’s the closest he can come to guaranteeing their love in return and because he doesn’t want them to be unsure.

 

“You love me and Parker with your whole big ol’ grew-three-sizes-that-day Grinch heart,” Hardison grins up at Eliot, who pretends to be disgusted because he’s a big, tough retrieval specialist who doesn’t have time for any cutesy pop culture references. Hardison lies back and pretends very hard that he’s not thinking about Eliot’s real question.

 

~:~:~

 

They dance around it a few more times and it’s _good_ even with Hardison nervously feeling his feelings out. Eliot smiles at him, encouraging without any demands. It’s one of Hardison’s favorite Eliot smiles.

 

~:~:~

 

One night the three of them are all home and in the right mood at the same time, and Parker and Eliot decide to team up to drive Hardison crazy because they are evil and he lives an incredibly charmed life.

 

Parker tweaks his nipples again—again, again—while she rubs herself against his cock, but not even that is enough to distract him from Eliot, damn Eliot with his clever fingers that just won’t stop opening him up so dang slowly and gently that Hardison is nearly crying already.

 

“Please, Eliot,” he groans.

 

“Please what?” Eliot asks and Hardison can _hear_ the smug grin in his voice. “I can’t hear you, son.”

 

Hardison whimpers. It’s so hot, it’s so hot and why was he ever trying to pretend that it isn’t?

 

Parker twists both nipples and whispers, “Tell Daddy what you want, Alec,” right in his ear so that he has no choice but to curl in on himself and come with Eliot’s fingers on his prostate and Parker looking so damn proud of herself.

 

After, Eliot fucks him from behind while he eats Parker out and they don’t make him talk about it because they’re the best.

 

~:~:~

 

“So, if I were to want to, you know, want to do the thing—with the, you know…” Hardison trails off. Eliot looks up from the knife he’s cleaning. Hardison may have waited until Eliot was in the middle of something he takes seriously, because he might be a coward that way. Whatever.

 

Eliot doesn’t say anything.

 

Hardison gets up from his chair and paces around, gesticulating a bit because the words are hard and he’s got to communicate somehow.

 

Eliot finishes up and sheathes his knife. He looks Hardison up and down, grabs his wrist and reels him in close.

 

“It’s ok, Alec,” Eliot tells him. Hardison would normally make a joke about not being a horse that needs gentling, but Eliot is rubbing his thumb back and forth over Hardison’s wrist and his hand is so warm.

 

The window opens and Parker comes in with a duffle bag and a grin. “What’s going on?” she asks, looking from Eliot’s face to the fingers of Hardison’s other hand tap-tap-tapping his leg and to the hand Eliot’s got wrapped around his wrist. “Did Hardison stop being stupid? Yay!”

 

She bounces up to them, kisses them both—Hardison first because he’s trying to argue with her and that’s silly—and goes to the bedroom to change for her girls night with Peggy and their friend Luz.

 

Hardison stares at his feet. “I want you, Daddy,” he says, then risks a glance up at Eliot through his lashes. Eliot’s doing that thing with his eyes where he looks like he’s grinning even when he’s not. He also looks kind of…stern. Like he knows what’s best. Alec wants this but he doesn’t know why or how to do it, but Eliot seems so sure.

 

"Do you want to talk about it first, or just do?" Eliot asks, because this is obviously important for Hardison even if--especially if--he's uncomfortable with it and confused. Hardison wraps his free arm around himself and shrugs his shoulders. He's not normally shy and he damn sure isn't ashamed of himself or what he likes in bed, but he doesn't understand this. He should have researched more before he brought it up, jumping in without looking was stupid of him and now he sounds—

 

Eliot stands up and pulls Hardison down to cut him off with a kiss that leaves him panting, half sitting on the table so that Eliot can loom over him a little bit. "Stop thinking so much. There's nothing to worry about. I'll take care of you," Eliot promises, and that's the thing. Hardison knows he will. "Maybe you want me to talk about it for you," Eliot continues, still rubbing his thumb over Hardison's wrist.

 

"Maybe I should tell you that Daddy knows what a good boy you've been lately, that you've earned a treat," he teases as his knee slips between Hardison's legs until Hardison's cock is pressed against the thick muscle of Eliot's thigh.

 

"It's important to have a system of rewards for good behavior—" Eliot kisses him again so he can feel the high pitched sound Hardison makes when he rocks his leg against Hardison a few times. "—and consequences for bad behavior," he finishes, grabbing a possessive handful of Hardison's very fine ass.

 

Hardison is not responsible for the sounds he makes anymore, nor does he recognize them.

 

Eliot grins at him like the cat that ate the entire pet store full of canaries, kisses a messy line up Hardison's neck, and murmurs into his ear: "No matter what, Daddy is always going to love you and want to take care of you, want to make you come on Daddy's cock and teach you how to give Daddy a blow job. Want to send you to the corner for making a mess when you jerk off without permission and then let you make it up to Daddy."

 

Eliot and the table are the only reasons Hardison hasn't collapsed to the floor at this point. Eliot's still got one of his wrists in his hand and the other arm is tucked between them, Hardison's long, normally sure fingers twisted up in Eliot's shirt like he'll fall if he lets go. Hardison thinks maybe he would, but Eliot would catch him.

 

Parker comes out in a gorgeous dress that Sophie got her and a plaid shirt she stole from Eliot long before they all became involved with each other. The combination shouldn't work on anyone but a twenty-year-old hipster model, but it works on Parker. "This is very hot," she informs them. "I like it when Hardison lets himself get all desperate. I don't want to do it with you, but if it keeps happening I really want to watch," she says matter-of-factly. "I have to go. Be a good boy, Alec." He whimpers and Eliot rewards him with another push forward of his leg as he bids Parker a good night. She waves and starts humming on her way out the door.

 

Eliot pushes back from the table, kisses Hardison, and walks across the room to their big leather chair. He sits down with his knees spread, pats one knee. "Come here, sweetheart," he says and it's an invitation as much as it's a command.

 

Hardison stumbles over and stands in front of Eliot. “C’mere, boy,” Eliot prompts him, tapping the chair between his legs. Hardison moves to sit down, but Eliot shakes his head. Hardison freezes because he doesn’t want to get this wrong, he doesn’t want to be a bad boy.

 

Eliot smiles at him because he knows what Hardison is thinking, he always knows. “It’s ok, baby,” he says and looks at the floor, at Hardison and then back to the floor. “You’re a good boy. Can you show Daddy how good you are?”

 

Hardison’s not graceful like Eliot or Parker. He goes down hard between Eliot’s feet, too impatient to spare a thought for his knees. “Careful,” chides Eliot because he likes to get bruises and cause bruises, but never on his people.

 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Hardison mutters and then he can’t meet Eliot’s eye, so his looks at Eliot’s cock instead, watching as his hands draw it out from the sweatpants Eliot put on after his workout.

 

Eliot puts a hand on Hardison’s face, not quite forcing him to look up. “You’re ok, Alec,” he says. “Now show me what a good boy you are.”

 

Hardison is good at oral sex—all varieties, thank you very much—and he tries to make this as good as possible, but he feels young and overeager and he can’t calm himself down enough to do as well as he knows he can. But Eliot doesn’t seem to care.

 

“Alec. Alec, your mouth,” Eliot praises. “Boy, if I could keep your mouth on my dick all the time, I would be a very happy man. Yeah, there’s my boy. You’re being such a good boy,” he says, touching a finger to Hardison’s lip where it’s stretched tight around his cock. “You like this, don’t you? You love being on your knees for Daddy, knowing I’m going to take care of you, make you feel real good. Soon I’m going to pull you up into my lap, see you well you take my fingers and my cock, show you how hot you make Daddy.”

 

Eliot keeps his hand on Hardison’s face the entire time Hardison blows him, rubbing a thumb across his cheekbone and giving little compliments whenever Hardison does something he particularly likes and when he gets up the courage to meet Eliot’s eyes.

 

After a few minutes, Eliot moans and says: “All right, baby boy. Climb on up.” Hardison sucks once more on Eliot’s cock and stands. “Strip,” Eliot orders. Hardison unbuttons his pants and underwear and shucks them as quick as he can. “Ah-ah-ah,” Eliot says, looking significantly at the crumple of clothing on the floor, “That’s not how we treat our things, is it? Tidy up.”

 

Hardison feels hot with embarrassment. He bends over to pick up his things, folds them carefully, and sets them aside. His shirt and socks follow. He looks at Eliot, shifting his weight nervously. “Like that, Daddy?” he asks, bolder than he’s said it before.

 

“Yeah, just like that.”

 

Hardison grins, proud of himself for doing well. Eliot pulls a bottle of lube from his pocket—he believes in being prepared, does Eliot—and coats three of this fingers. Hardison swallows hard and nearly gets a hand on his cock before Eliot clears his throat and shakes his head a little bit. “Not yet, Alec. And you’d best ask permission before you touch,” Eliot cautions.

 

Hardison whimpers. He takes a step forward, cautiously meets Eliot’s eye, and climbs into his lap when Eliot gives him a nod. “Daddy?” he asks plaintively.

 

Eliot wraps a hand around Hardison so he can run one finger over him, teasing. “What do you need, love?”

 

“Touch me,” Hardison begs.

 

Eliot gives him a swat on the ass with his free hand. “Manners,” he chides.

 

“Please!”

 

He tries pushing back on Eliot’s finger, but it’s no use. “Ah, ah, ah. Full sentences—ask me properly,” Eliot says, moving his finger like he’s going to press it inside Hardison, then backing off because he is an evil, evil man.

 

Hardison whines. “Daddy!” Eliot chuckles. “Daddy, please fuck me, please finger me, get me ready for your cock and fuck me, please!”

 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Eliot murmurs, “Well done.” Hardison glows at the praise. “Here you go,” Eliot says as he finally slides a finger into Hardison, who whimpers.

 

Eliot keeps fingering him for what feels like forever, so carefully and slowly, like making it good for Hardison is more important than Eliot’s cock, which is pressing against Hardison’s ass like a deliberate tease.

 

“Please,” Hardison begs, rocking his hips.

 

Eliot curves his fingers just right and Hardison twitches all over. “What do you need, baby?”

 

“Talk to me,” Hardison groans, “Please. I need you to talk to me, please.”

 

“Sure, Alec—anything you want,” Eliot promises. He runs a hand over his cock to slick it up and Hardison moans because it’s a gorgeous sight and because it means Eliot is going to stop teasing and fuck him soon, please god. “I like you like this,” continues Eliot as pulls his fingers out. Hardison whimpers. “All desperate for it, trusting me enough to just want. It’s gorgeous. Alright, lift up, sweetheart.”

 

Hardison raises himself up on his knees so that he can sink down onto Eliot’s cock. “Good boy,” Eliot murmurs, rocking his hips as he wraps his hands around Hardison’s waist to guide him up and down. Hardison feels like he ought to be doing something, but all he can manage is to put his hands on Eliot’s ridiculous shoulders and just hold on while Eliot fucks into him.

 

“That’s right. You like sitting in Daddy’s lap like this?” Hardison nods and swivels his hips. “I know you do. You love me taking care of you, wrapping my hands around you, filling you up whenever you need it.” Hardison groans—he’s close, he’s been close for _ever_ —and tightens around Eliot. “Oh, good boy, Alec. That’s right.

 

“I bet you’re ready, aren’t you, baby?” Eliot asks. “You know what to do.”

 

Hardison arches his neck because a man can only take so much good sensation. “Can I touch my cock, please? Please, Daddy, it hurts, I need to come. Please!”

 

“Go ahead, Alec. Show me how much you want it,” Eliot growls. He always gets growly when he’s close to coming. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

 

Hardison puts a hand to his cock, alternates between rutting against it and pushing down onto Eliot. “Ah, Eliot,” Hardison chants over and over until he folds forward to press his head against Eliot’s shoulder as he comes all over his stomach. Eliot gives him a moment, murmuring little nothings into his ear until Hardison sits up and asks, “Don’t you want to come in me, Daddy?”

 

Eliot shudders and closes his eyes for a moment. “You are a very bad boy in the very best way,” he says, then grabs Hardison by the hips and thrusts until he’s coming, fast and hard like he always does.

 

They sit wrapped around each other for a while, until Eliot goes soft and the come dried on Hardison’s chest and abs starts to get uncomfortable. Then Eliot stands with Hardison clinging to him like a very surprised and tired-but-still-objecting-to-this-behavior monkey. Eliot doesn’t do this much because Hardison worries about his back and his dang limbs are so long it’s a hazard, but he’ll never deny that he likes being able to take care of Alec when he needs it.

 

He walks them into the shower and washes them both. Hardison makes motions like he wants to help, but he’s drained, leaning against Eliot or the wall until he dozes off standing up while Eliot rinses the shampoo from his hair.

 

:~:~:

 

Hardison doesn’t entirely wake up again until they’re curled up in bed half an hour later. Eliot is on his back with an arm under Hardison’s head. Hardison is curled into him but still taking up a surprising amount of room with his absurdly long limbs.

 

“That was weird, huh?” Hardison mutters, head tucked into Eliot’s neck. Eliot hums and runs a hand up and down Hardison’s spine. “I mean, I don’t normally do that, or act like that, you know, man?” Eliot hums again. It’s a nice sound—deep, so Hardison can feel it where he’s pressed against Eliot’s chest and throat. “I’m not embarrassed, because you know I’m all about the free and open experimentation, and sex-positivity is where it’s at. But, uh, were you ok with that?”

 

Eliot’s looking at him, Hardison can feel it, but he won’t look. “Alec. Come on, sweetheart, look at me,” he cajoles.

 

“Nope,” Hardison refuses.

 

Eliot chuckles. “Did I seem like I minded?” Hardison shakes his head. “I love you. I’m willing to try anything that don’t make me uncomfortable if it’s something you and Parker want. But I can promise you that I enjoyed every minute of that. Did you?” Hardison nods. “Hardison, answer me,” Eliot chides.

 

You’re a very frustrating man,” Hardison grouses. “Yes. It was hot and fun and I want to do it again sometime. Maybe with you spanking me and definitely with Parker watching.”

 

“Awesome!” Parker calls from the living room.

 

“Parker? Woman, get in here! Were you just waiting out there?” Hardison half sits up.

 

“You were in the middle of one of those moment things, so I was waiting for a good time,” she yelled back.

 

“It’s a good time, Parker,” Eliot calls. “That girl is great,” he mutters in the same tone he used to use when he called her not right. Hardison really should have realized that Eliot was into them long before he did.

 

Hardison kisses Eliot because he can’t not when the big grump shows how sweet he is. “Get in here, Parks,” he says.

 

She opens the door with three beers and a donut. “How was girl’s night?” Hardison asks.

 

“Fun! They talked about guys they’re dating, so I told them about you guys and they were very confused, but then I showed them the pictures on my phone and they high fived me,” Parker announces as she strips down to her underwear and climbs into bed on Hardison’s other side. “And I found a woman crying in the bathroom so tomorrow we’re going to help her. How was the sex?” She hands a beer to each of them and starts eating the donut. She gives them each a bite because she really does love them.

 

“It was awesome. Kinks are fun. Excellent orgasms,” Hardison sighs, turning over to kiss Parker hello.

 

“Nice. I want one,” Parker declares.

 

“Sorry, baby, I’m tapped out,” replies Hardison. “Look:” he lifts his arm and lets it fall to demonstrate his post-orgasm-exhaustion induced weakness. “Eliot?”

 

“I can’t go again,” Eliot says after a long pull of his beer, “but I’ll eat you out.”

 

“Awesome,” Parker says. She finishes her donut with slightly frightening speed. “This is a good day.”

 

“Agreed,” Hardison sighs, settling in to kiss Parker as Eliot crawls between her legs. “This is a very good day.”

 

Eliot hums his agreement, which makes Parker squeak and buck her hips up against him. “We should do something for Eliot tomorrow,” Hardison muses out loud.

 

“Maybe the—oh, god, right there—the secret plan?” Parker suggests.

 

“Ooh, yeah. You are devious girl. This’ll be great. I’ll send you the files with the new encryption,” Hardison promises because it’s a very elaborate plan and he knows saying that will annoy Eliot.

 

Eliot growls, and pulls Parker’s hips up to a better angle so he can make her tighten her thighs and breathe funny because she refuses to moan. She pulls his hair the way he likes and kisses Hardison. He reaches a hand over to cup her breast and play with her nipple.

 

Parker never had any sort of sex ed or birds and the bees talk or awkwardly eager teenage boyfriends, so they have a lot of fun teaching her just how sensitive some parts of her really are.

 

Parker grabs him by the back of the head and pulls his mouth to her breast. He switches his hand to the other side. Eliot chuckles and mouths at Parker until she comes, then he fingers her and licks at her clit until she comes again and shoves both of them away.

 

Eliot and Hardison flop back onto their pillows. Parker throws a leg over Hardison, who wraps one of his legs between Eliot’s legs. Eliot puts an arm around Hardison and links one of his fingers around one of Parker’s because they like to feel close and be able to escape easily.

 

“Plan commences at nine a.m.,” Parker whispers.

 

“That’s oh-nine-hundred for the crazy military types,” Hardison tells Eliot.

 

“Dammit, Hardison,” Eliot mutters.

 

Yeah, it’s a damn good day.


End file.
